I found the title of this post in my iPad. Just the title, no additional words. I think I meant to write something about my dad – Papi – some time ago (maybe before my trip to Puerto Rico), but maybe I got too emotional and never got to it. Papi is an endearing name that we use to call ‘dad’ in the Spanish language. I didn’t want to trash the title, so I decided to write today. I miss Papi a lot, all the time. Losing my dad feels unimaginable.
I always get emotional when I think about my dad. I miss him. I didn’t talk with him every day. Mostly weekly – that’s about the frequency that I have resorted to by the time he passed. I used to call my parents in Puerto Rico about twice a week – maybe more frequently if there was something I wanted to share. But as my life in Michigan developed – becoming a married woman with a career and a lot of other things going on – the frequency changed.
I was just listening to one of the songs from Hamilton, the musical, and I ended up thinking about my dad. The song – ‘It’s Quiet Uptown’ – always makes me emotional. The song is about losing someone – the unimaginable. I always end up thinking about my dad and end up crying. I thought that trying to put some of my thoughts in writing might help calm me down, so here I am writing.
How I miss my dad? I miss that he doesn’t exist anymore in the physical world. I miss that I can’t pick up the phone and call him. I will never be able to hear him again, or his very unique laugh. I will never be able to touch him or look into his eyes. I always thought I had his eyes…
I was a daddy’s girl. I was the first born and was always at his side while growing up. I used to watch him working on the car – he loved cars and I do too. Maybe he missed having a boy at his side to teach all the car stuff, but he never said that. I observed him every day as he was taking care of the car – he dusted the car every day – and the love for cars is something I learned from him.
I was very attached to my dad. I never liked losing sight of him. I would get mad. My parents always tell me the story of when my dad was leaving for a baseball game – the baseball field was walking distance from our house – and how I started crying to such a degree that he took me with him to the game. I also remembered how everyone said that I walked fast. It was not that I was walking fast, necessarily, but that I learned the fast stride from walking next to my dad. He was a fast walker. Every time I realize that I’m walking fast, I remember him.
My dad was a joker. Always finding a way to make a joke about life situations. We didn’t always laugh, but he never gave up to try to make us laugh. I remember about how he used to compare people, especially when he was watching television. He would joke that someone looked like somebody else or something else. Sometimes his comparisons were horrible and we will tell him so. But it didn’t matter, because he would make us laugh anyway. I also joke sometimes and I now realize that maybe I inherited that gene from my dad.
There are so many things that we inherit from our parents. I know I can probably come up with a long list. But for now, I just wanted to think about a few, and mostly remember my dad. I wish he would still exist and that I could hear his voice. But that is not possible. I will just have to remember the memories and his laughter. I will just have to keep thinking that his soul still exists and that he is still around me keeping watch over me – just like I was always around him, keeping watch over him when I was a little girl.
I love you, Papi!
My Coqui Soul Project 